


Dare

by Tinstars



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Dare, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-12
Updated: 2011-08-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinstars/pseuds/Tinstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darren is dared to spend the night in Chris’s bunk on the tour bus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dare

As if the terms of the dare weren’t bad enough, Darren had trouble reaching the top bunk on his own. He grunted and tried to get his footing on the rubber panel of the middle bunk, but he simply didn’t have the energy to push himself up. 

“Here,” Chord said, approaching with his hands clasped low. Darren turned and sighed, but nodded his consent. Chord positioned himself so Darren could use him as a step. “There you go, little fella. Easy does it.” He helped Darren into the bunk and gave him a condescending pat on the head and a fake cheer. “You did it!”

Harry sidled over just as Darren shot a glare at Chord, though it was actually more of a pout in his sleep-deprived state. 

“Aw, look at that,” Harry said, playing along. “He thinks he’s people.”

“You guys are dicks,” Darren said. His tone was sluggish and had no bite. 

Chord grinned and gave him a salute before disappearing down the narrow passage.

“Good luck, stud muffin,” Harry said with a wink, following Chord to the other side of the bus, where a bizarrely intense game of Go Fish was still in full swing.

Darren watched them leave, and suddenly his stomach felt leaden. He could hear his new bunkmate breathing slowly and felt the warmth of his thighs, clad only in boxers, and his bare arms, which brushed against Darren’s back with every intake of breath.

He turned onto his back carefully, hands crossed over his chest, and stared at the low ceiling above them. To say that his feelings for Chris were confusing was a _gross_ understatement. It had just gotten worse with the pace and energy of the tour. And now, in a crowded tour bus, all of his fears were peaking at once. Why did he ever think he could handle this?

Chris’s voice was soft and gentle in the darkness.  
“Hey there.”

Darren had to hold back a shudder. Chris would be able to hear every single sound he made that night. Every little movement. He could probably read Darren’s thoughts too, with some sort of ancient bus bet psychic voodoo magic. This was not going to end well.

When he finally glanced over, Chris was completely squashed against the wall, eyes closed tight, hugging the pillow to his face. Darren’s fingers twitched nervously over his chest. The bunk was obviously not made to house two people. He felt the need to apologize forever.

“I’m really sorry about this. I don’t know why they had to drag you into it.” He turned just a little bit, onto his side, until their bodies were angled toward each other. It was a good thing Chris was so slim, or they would have been forced to spoon to fit in the compact space. Darren didn’t want to think about all the bad, bad things that could have led to.

“They think you won’t be able to resist my charms,” Chris said softly, rubbing his cheek against the pillow. 

Darren was a fan of sleepy Chris. He was a fan of any Chris, but sleepy Chris was particularly direct, like he didn’t have time to be awkward. Like he was when he was performing. Chris opened one bleary eye and smirked at him. Darren’s heart skipped a beat.

“Maybe they’re _trying_ to make me uncomfortable,” Darren said quietly, only vaguely aware that he was speaking out loud.

Chris grunted sleepily and exhaled, muffled by the pillow. “That - that’s racist.”

“Um.” Darren scrunched his nose. “You mean homophobic?”

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Chris went silent for a few moments. Darren thought that he had fallen asleep, until he let out an audible sigh.  
“Are they still playing cards?”

Darren twisted around and strained to make out the muffled sounds of conversation from across the bus.  
“Yeah.”

“Were you humming again?” Chris asked.

A look of mischief crossed Darren’s face. “Friday’s a catchy tune.”

Chris’s fingers moved in lazy swirls as he connected the dots. “Are you sure they didn’t just dare you to go to sleep so you’d shut up?”

Darren stroked his invisible goatee in contemplation. 

“Chord said that if I made it the whole night, he’d buy me the biggest burrito in the world.”  
It was true. And after all his hard work, he wanted a damn burrito. He just, maybe hadn’t thought through _all_ the implications before he’d agreed to it.

“That’s not a dare, that’s a bribe,” Chris groaned. He sounded absolutely exhausted. “He bribed you with Mexican food so you’d stop singing Rebecca Black and go to sleep for once.”

Darren laughed softly and managed to fit one arm under his head. “Maybe. But I’ve never backed out of a dare.” He glanced at Chris fondly. “I don’t mind.”

A quiet settled between them, disturbed only by the occasional chorus of shouts from the other side of the bus.

“But you’re sure _you’re_ okay with this?” Darren said suddenly. He was hugging himself tight, as if he could make his body even smaller and less obtrusive through physical force.

“Darren, it’s fine,” Chris said irritably. “I just need to get some sleep.”

“…and it’s not too uncomfortable?”

Chris rolled his eyes as he reached across Darren’s chest to draw the curtain closed. 

They shifted around in the darkness, settling into a reasonably comfortable position, their limbs becoming linked in the process.

“You have big feet,” Darren whispered, flexing his toes and rubbing his ankle across Chris’s, smiling into the dark between them.

“Hey, you know what they say about guys with big feet,” Chris replied, the grin reading in his voice. 

When Darren didn’t react – and may have actually stopped breathing - Chris answered himself.  
“They wear big shoes.”

Darren just nodded for the benefit of no one and stubbornly ignored the lump in his throat and the heat in his face.

Chris cuddled against the pillow and sighed. “Darren. Sleep.”

Even though Darren’s mind was racing, once he heard Chris’s breathing begin to slow, his eyes fluttered shut, and he finally let himself relax.  
\----

Darren woke in the middle of the night to a massive earthquake.  
At least, that’s what it felt like. Chris was twisting and wriggling and…singing? He heard snatches of words, but most of it sounded like softly mumbled gibberish.

He tried to go back to sleep, but under the circumstances, his body refused. Instead, he blinked slowly and strained to concentrate on Chris through the sleepy haze.

It took a moment for it to sink in, but then he understood. Chris Colfer was sleep-dancing. Horizontally. In their bunk. 

Darren snorted and had to bite his finger to keep from laughing out loud. The longer it went on - Chris sleep mumbling along with his sleep choreography – the funnier it got. 

Until Chris’s thigh swept right between his legs. His silent laughter turned into a gasp. 

Chris was still moving, rubbing on him unknowingly, sending spikes of pleasure through his veins whenever his cock brushed against the solid warmth of Chris’s thigh. 

He was afraid to move, or breathe too loud, or do anything that might wake Chris. A jolt of panic went through his spine and he contemplated rolling out of the bunk, to his potential demise, rather than risk the possibility of Chris waking to discover that he was half-hard. 

He clenched his eyes tight and tried to think of every horrible thing he could to discourage his growing problem. Just when he couldn’t take any more teasing friction, Chris stopped moving. He waited with baited breath in case it wasn’t over, and let out a whimper. He could barely feel his body, apart from his pounding heartbeat, and the sheer desperate need that was pulling tight in the pit of his stomach. 

He felt Chris turn over, and held his breath again, just waiting for the inevitable to happen. Various scenarios played out in his head, most of which involved him being thrown out of a moving bus for being a pervert and violating Bunk Law. Instead, he felt something press warm into his thigh. Something that felt an awful lot like a dick. 

Chris’s dick, if his deductive skills were to be trusted. 

Okay, so, Chris was hard. And that was fine. It was only natural, what with the sleeping and the rubbing and he could feel Chris’s breath hot against his neck and _shit_ , when had their faces gotten so close?

He couldn’t hear anything but Chris breathing into his neck, and then a soft murmur.

“ _I think I can help with that._ ”

It was quiet, but unmistakably clear.

Slowly, fighting the small tremors shooting through his arm, he reached towards the low ceiling and pushed the button to turn on the light.

Chris was staring right at him, face flushed, breathing thickly. His eyes were wide and shining. He licked his perfect pink lips, and Darren’s cock twitched in response. Chris reached up calmly, hand mimicking the path of Darren’s, and plunged them into darkness one more.

His other senses quickly picked up the slack. Darren could still feel Chris breathing against his neck, and he could smell Chris everywhere. It was pleasant, like that soap they used to take off his stage makeup. 

The confining space made everything seem that much bigger. Every little flinch, every shuffle of fabric in the darkness, was so much more _intense_. He gasped quietly when he felt warm fingertips trail across the hem of his thin shirt, brushing against his stomach for an instant, just enough to make him shiver with want.

The heat from Chris’s mouth left his shoulder. Chris was moving in the darkness, pressing a little more boldly against him, until his arm was on Darren’s waist. Then, in an instant, their mouths found each other.

Chris tasted incredible. When Chris’s tongue slipped past his lips insistently, it was amazing and familiar but entirely new.

“Isn’t this - isn’t this crossing a line?” Darren breathed out against Chris’s lips in between small, urgent kisses.

“Maybe,” Chris whispered, closing his hands on either side of Darren’s face and fitting their lips together. “Yes.” He gently worried Darren’s bottom lip, drawing out a soft, pained groan. He paused, and then pulled back quickly. “Oh god. Do you not want to? Did I misread-”

Darren felt his chest constrict, and his heart was suddenly in his throat. “It’s not-“

“Shit shit shit shit.” Chris twisted onto his back, his voice hoarse and thin. “I’m terrible at flirting; I just thought…oh my god.” He pushed himself as far away as the space would allow.

“No! No, I do want to!” Darren’s own voice was scratchy and low as he reached out into the dark, trying for Chris’s shoulder but accidentally grazing his chest instead. “I-very much want.” He managed to pull Chris back against him, nuzzling into his shoulder. “It’s a good line to cross. A good, sexy line. Good line.” He punctuated his jumbled words with kisses across the length of Chris’s neck.

Chris moaned into the touch, and his shoulders relaxed “Oh thank god,” he said with a small whine, grabbing a fistful of Darren’s shirt to pull himself closer. “If I don’t get off soon I’m going to explode.”

“Isn’t that kind of the point,” Darren said with a hazy grin.  
“Different kind of explosion,” Chris whispered, giving his earlobe a gentle nibble. He reached for the window blindly as he sucked the tender flesh between his lips and smiled at the little sounds drawn from Darren. The window’s cover was lifted just a fraction, and a sliver of light shot through the darkness. When Chris pulled away, his skin was glowing in the moonlight. Darren let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and shivered down to his toes.

“This tour is driving me fucking crazy,” he whispered, dragging his fingers across the back of Chris’s shirt. “I just want to touch you all the time and it’s making me insane.”

Chris groaned and shifted on top of Darren, straddling his waist, knees tight on either side. He pressed his hand against Darren’s chest and splayed his fingers out as he leaned down, hovering a breath away from Darren’s face. 

“ _I’m gonna show you why they call me Ontario._ ” His voice was low and raw, and Darren could feel hot breath on the cusp of his ear. It would have been the sexiest thing Darren had ever heard, if not for the fact that it was also the most ridiculous.

“Did you just say that?” Darren asked, a giggle bubbling in his throat. “Did you actually just say that?” Silent laughter began to wrack his body. His nerves were frayed and it made everything seem that much more surreal. He had to cover his mouth because he was on the verge of cackling, and Chris fell against his chest, grinning into his shirt.

“Hush,” Chris whispered, heating the center of his chest. “It wasn’t supposed to be funny.”

“It doesn’t even make _sense_ ,” Darren said, high and breathy, and still giggling a bit maniacally. 

Chris pushed himself back to a sitting position. Darren was still letting out soft hiccups of laughter when Chris ground his hips down. 

Darren couldn’t stop the loud groan that tore from his throat at the sudden contact. Chris immediately covered Darren’s mouth with his hand and started to rock back and forth, rolling his hips in tiny little circles. He sat over Darren’s cock, his strong thighs holding him up so that every little twitch of his hips produced the smallest pulse of friction. 

Darren moaned against Chris’s soft hand and closed his eyes, struggling to hold back, to keep himself from thrusting shamelessly against Chris Colfer’s perfect ass. 

After getting him hot and flushed and thoroughly worked up, Chris removed his hand from Darren’s face. He kept the pace torturously slow but _the way he moved_ , the way his stomach and thighs flexed, all lean muscle and warmth and teasing, was a kind of intoxicating that Darren had never even dreamt of.

Honestly, if you’d asked him before this to list the worst possible places to get a lap dance from a co-worker, “a tour bus bunk” probably would have been in the top three, right after “a roller coaster” and “the ballpit at Chuckie Cheese”.

But _this_. It was uncomfortably warm and he barely had room to move his limbs, and it was like heaven. Chris was rolling his body in these small waves with such practiced control that he was already on the verge of coming undone.

Chris thrust his hips in wider circles, rolling their pelvises together. A bead of sweat slid down his forehead, and Darren’s eyes shot open. He saw that Chris was chewing his lip, just barely holding down the little noises in his throat. Another thrust and they ground together through the thin layers of fabric. The choked-off sound that Chris made was bordering on painful. His face was completely flushed and his mouth hung open, his lips just begging for attention. 

Darren reached up and touched the side of his face. Chris’s movements stilled and he looked down into Darren’s eyes, nuzzling into his palm. Darren ran his thumb gently over Chris’s rosy cheek, and across his bottom lip, marveling at how _soft_ his skin was, and the warmth of Chris’s breath against the pad of his thumb. He trailed his fingers behind Chris’s ear and guided him down until their faces were level. 

Chris’s hair fell in damp locks over his forehead. Darren inhaled thickly and breathed out against Chris’s neck, just short of touching his lips to the expanse of delicious skin. Everything about him was breathtaking. Chris let out a small whimper and stretched his neck invitingly.

Darren wanted nothing more than to suck dark, lasting bruises into that creamy white skin. Instead, he let his lips brush along a tantalizing path, stopping every few inches to leave a feather-light kiss. Chris squirmed and rocked his hips, pressing them flush together.

There was a hint of stubble just under Chris’s chin. Darren paid special attention to the skin there, dragging his lips against it until Chris’s low groans tapered off in his throat. With one last wet kiss to his neck, Darren slid his hands over Chris’s waist, pushing up the hem of his shirt, and then skimming down under his boxers. He gave Chris’s ass a firm squeeze and thrust up against him, holding him in place, rough hands on smooth skin.

Chris whimpered and bit his lip to keep from keening loudly. The angle was a little off, but it was enough to feel the hot thrill of them rubbing together. He rolled his hips up over and over again, right against Chris’s clothed dick, until Chris’s thighs started to tremble. It took all his willpower to slow his hips, but Chris quickly took control again. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Darren’s pants and pulled them just far enough to expose his cock. Darren gave a small whimper of relief and surged forward to do the same for Chris, almost hitting his head on the ceiling. Chris just snorted and grinned at him – the sort of smile that always made his heart flutter – and pulled his own boxers down.

Darren silently cursed the shadows and dim moonlight that were obscuring his vision, because he wanted to see everything. His frustration was cut blissfully short when Chris spat into his hand and started stroking Darren’s cock, taking his time, curling his fingers around the tip and pressing his thumb against the slit, rubbing circles around it. Darren actually had to grab the mat underneath them to keep from falling apart and babbling like an idiot.

He hissed in a sharp breath when Chris started pumping his cock. Chris was rutting against Darren’s hipbone, making these tiny, desperate, needy sounds, and for a moment he really wished that they were in an actual room with an actual bed, where he could flip Chris onto his back and live out all the fantasies that had been stirring in his mind for all these aching months.

But then Chris’s hand was off him, and his need to be touched took over. He bucked his hips involuntarily and suppressed a whine in the back of his throat. He was simultaneously rewarded and punished as Chris pressed himself closer to Darren, holding his arms down until he couldn’t do anything but squirm. Which is exactly what he did when Chris changed the angle, groaning into his shirt as their cocks ground together. He loved it, knowing the shape and weight and warmth of Chris’s cock as it slid against his. Knowing that Chris was using his body to get off. Darren gasped and tipped his head back, feeling himself nearing the edge with every shift as their bodies slotted together. 

Chris pushed Darren’s shirt up to his chest, exposing his stomach. A low growl from Chris’s lips was all it took to push him to the brink. He shuddered violently and clenched his fists, lifting his hips in small thrusts as he came hard all over Chris’s cock and his own stomach. 

The world was muddled in the wake of such an intense orgasm, and he only had enough consciousness left to focus on Chris, who was rubbing against Darren shamelessly, using his come to make the slide easier. Darren arched his tired hips and it wasn’t long before Chris’s eyes rolled back and his mouth fell slack in a silent cry of ecstasy. Darren’s cock twitched as though it was ready to go again, just from the feel of Chris’s come streaked across his stomach.

Chris stayed like that for a moment before slumping over onto his side. They were both panting and exhausted.

“Wow,” he said against Darren’s neck. “That was things.”  
After letting out a few steadying breaths, he reached into a small compartment on the wall and handed Darren a tissue packet.

Darren giggled at his sudden ineloquence and started to clean himself. “I thought you were supposed to be a writer.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a nice person,” Chris snapped back automatically.

Darren tucked the used tissues into the compartment and grinned down at Chris. “What are you talking about? I’m nice as pie.”

“Uh. What are you-“  
Chris was cut off by a sudden assault on the tender, ticklish skin above his waist, where Darren was flitting his fingers without mercy. He wriggled and squeaked and curled in on himself, slapping Darren’s fingers away with as much force as he could muster in the midst of his afterglow.

Finally, Darren relented. He tangled his hand in Chris’s hair and held him close. “You have the cutest laugh in the universe,” Darren whispered against his hair.

“Is that a fact?” Chris said with a hint of annoyance.

“It is. I saw a documentary about it on the Science channel.” 

Chris held his shoulders stiff, and then relaxed into Darren’s arms. He turned his face against Darren’s chest and sighed. “Mmm. Science.” 

They stayed like that for a few minutes, settling into a comfortable silence as Darren traced meaningless shapes into Chris’s back with his fingertips. He was completely, thoroughly worn out, but so, so content. 

Of course, they would eventually have to talk about this drastic leap from “platonic friends” to “grunting pals”. They would go through the thorny process of shaping some definition for their relationship, if they decided to have one at all. And Darren would confess how much he kinda actually _really_ wanted to have one. At the moment, though, he was pretty sure that his skull was just filled with goo, and not at all capable of such a conversation.

Chris broke the silence with a murmur. “Darren. I think I’m drowning.”

Darren’s fingers stopped drawing spirals on Chris’s shoulder . “Huh?”

Chris pulled away from his chest. “How can one body produce so much sweat?” 

“Oh. Sorry,” Darren said with a sheepish smile. “Can’t help it.”

Chris groaned. “Uck. I have an important Skype meeting tomorrow. And an interview. I’ll have to be ready as soon as I get to my room, which means I won’t have time to shower. Which means I’ll have to do everything covered in your…”

Chris stopped, and swallowed thickly.  
And yeah, he knew why. It was bizarre how something could be really gross, but also extremely hot.

“Sorry,” Darren whispered again.

“We should definitely sleep now,” Chris said, voice pitched even higher than normal.

Darren hummed in agreement and they cuddled close together.

Once again, Chris drifted off first, but this time his fingers were loosely curled in Darren’s hair. He fell asleep smiling against Chris’s cheek.

 

Most of the bus’s passengers had been awake and out of their bunks for at least an hour. One bunk in particular still had its curtains drawn. Many curious glances were cast in its direction, until a lull in conversation finally prompted someone to address the big gay elephant in the room.

“Do you think they…”

“Someone should go check on them.”

Dianna piped up, soft but insistent. “Don’t you think this is getting a little too intrusive?”

Cory, who’d been silent about the whole dare escapade until that point, stared out at the opposite window with an alarming, aching intensity. “Christopher is a sweet, beautiful soul,” he whispered, his voice cracking, “and he _deserves to get laid._ ” The words came out in a broken sob. He buried his face in his hands.

The group stared at him dumbly. No one dared to speak a word until Harry gave him a soothing pat him on the back.

“Wow.”

“Okay. Well.” Lea sat down next to him and started rubbing his knee. “I think it’s safe to say that tour hysteria is setting in.”

Mark nodded in agreement, stretching his legs out across the pathway. “Yeah, we all deserve to get laid.”

Lea shot him a stern look of warning. “Mark. Bus rule number seven.”

“What? I didn’t even say it!”

“You almost did. No orgy talk, okay? Cause we’re all a little loopy and if we start talking about orgies it’s gonna get really weird really fast.”

There was a noise, like tinkling laughter. They all looked towards the bunks. 

“I’ll do it.” Mark rolled his neck and pushed himself off the seat. 

“Be careful! They might be naked,” Harry hissed after him.

Mark crept over to the bunks. He planted his foot on the opposite panel and hauled himself up until he was just high enough to peer into their bunk. The curtains were still drawn, but he could hear their conversation.

“…but Revenge of the Sith wasn’t _as_ bad,” Darren said.

Chris responded, exasperated. “Yeah, okay, but it’s still like comparing quiche to cake. If it’s my birthday, I want a freaking cake.”

“Wait, how does your birthday fit into this analogy?”

“My birthday represents the entirety of human existence. The quiche represents disappointment and betrayal.”

Darren laughed affectionately. “You must be really fucking tired.”

Chris groaned and let his forehead fall against Darren’s chest, just as Mark pulled the curtain back. 

They stared out at him, Chris’s glasses pushed up into his hairline, one hand on a book that was spread open on Darren’s stomach. Both of them looked worse for wear, but Mark couldn’t tell whether it was from a night of hot gay sex or from sleeping in a bunk with enough room for about half a person.

Mark realized that they were staring just as intently at him as he was at them. His searching gaze immediately melted into a grin. 

“Morning,” he said, overly chipper.

They kept staring at him, silent and unmoving. 

“Get a good sleep?” Mark asked persistently. “Restful?”

“It was like sleeping inside a torpedo with a sweaty, clingy chimp,” Chris said, monotone. “Thanks for asking.”

“Whoa. Mental images.” Mark stared off into space for a second, before snapping back with a start. He looked pointedly at Chris. “But seriously, you’re alright, right?” 

Chris sighed. “I’m fine. If I wasn’t, I would’ve left.”

Mark scrutinized him carefully, and then nodded. “Okay. There’s muffins if you two ever decide to crawl out of your love nest.”

Chris rolled his eyes and reached over to shut the curtain. He puffed out his cheeks and face-planted against Darren’s chest again.

Darren felt a little stunned by everything, like his brain needed extra time to catch up. He looked down at Chris and stroked the nape of his neck idly. “Why did he say it like that?” he said softly. “When he asked if you were alright?”

“Huh?” Chris lifted his head for a second and squinted. “Oh, I dunno. I’m a little claustrophobic, so I think some of them were worried.”

Darren shot up, almost hitting his head on the ceiling for the hundredth time and displacing Chris.  
“You’re what?!”

Chris clutched his book and moved out of the way. “It’s not that bad, honestly. This isn’t the first time I’ve slept on a tour bus.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Darren asked, verging on a whine.

“Because it doesn’t matter. If I was uncomfortable, I would’ve said so. Or kicked you in the shins.”

Despite his reassuring tone, it didn’t make Darren feel any better. Chris was claustrophobic and Darren had just forced him to spend the night under what had to be the most physically uncomfortable sleeping conditions he’d ever experienced.

“If I’d known, I would’ve just bought my own stupid burrito,” he grumbled.

Chris shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I feel safe around you.”  
As soon as he said the words, his eyes widened. They looked at each other in silence, until Chris broke the gaze and stared at the ceiling, chewing his lip. 

After a moment, he marked his place in the book and set it aside.

“We should probably talk about this. Us.” Chris leaned back on his elbow and stared at him with those shining blue eyes.

Darren’s tongue felt heavy in his throat. “Talk. Yeah.”

The quiet crept in again, until they could hear each other breathing.  
Chris cleared his throat.

“So, you’re gonna to sneak into my hotel room tonight?” he asked with a small, mischievous smirk.

Darren grinned wide. “Is the Space Pope reptilian?”

Chris let out a squeaky giggle. “I think I like you.”

“I hope so.”

Darren leaned in tentatively and chanced a kiss. Their lips brushed softly, and when Chris pulled back his ears and cheeks were dusted with pink. He bit his lip and smiled, pausing for a moment before crawling over Darren, to the other side of the bunk. His legs slid over the edge, past the curtain, and he started to lower himself down. Once his feet had purchase on a lower bunk, he glanced back at Darren.

“ _Tonight,_ ” he mouthed, flashing another shy smile before disappearing from view. 

This was followed by several obnoxious cat-calls from across the bus.

Darren’s heart was racing. He stared at the ceiling and touched his hand to his chest.

After a moment, he made a ridiculous squeal of excitement and punched the air with his fist. His knuckles connected with the ceiling. He blanched and rubbed his hand, but even a set of swollen fingers couldn’t wipe the grin from his face.


End file.
